


Everything He Needs

by nerdyscully (dalecooperscoffee)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Soft Richie Tozier, nothing graphic, the portrayal of hospitals is probably very inaccurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 03:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20632412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalecooperscoffee/pseuds/nerdyscully
Summary: Eddie lives. Richie goes to visit him in the hospital, and it soon becomes impossible to tear him away from Eddie's side. While Eddie lies to the nurse and says Richie is his boyfriend so that he can get longer visiting hours, Richie agonizes over his feelings and wonders if he'll ever be honest with both himself and Eddie.





	Everything He Needs

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Всё, что ему нужно (Everything He Needs)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25401733) by [Fil_l](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fil_l/pseuds/Fil_l)

> hello! this is my first fic for this fandom. reddie has captivated me and i'm really excited to share this. i hope richie and eddie are in character, since it's my first fic i'm sure i have a lot to improve upon. i wrote most of this fic in the early morning, because the idea came to me and i was scared that i'd forget it if i didn't write it down. it's proofread, but still, i apologize if you see any grammar mistakes.
> 
> also, the portrayal of hospitals and visiting hours and all that is probably wildly inaccurate and i apologize for that. i am lucky, i haven't had too much experience with hospitals, and last time i visited someone in one was when my dad had his appendix out when i was 8. so...take this all with a grain of salt. i hope you enjoy <3

Richie stood outside the hospital, smoking what must’ve been his fifth cigarette at that point. He didn’t know how long he had been standing out there, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk and telling himself “_You have to go in. You have to go in and see him. Why are you so scared? Just go in, dumbass._” He wasn’t sure if he was saying it out loud, it was such a constant echo in his brain, but then he noticed the strange looks he was getting from people passing by. What a sorry sight: a rambling, pacing, chain-smoking man in front of the hospital. He was surprised an employee hadn’t come outside to tell him to get off the property.

The others had already seen him. Beverly, Ben, Bill, Mike. They all said he was doing really well, considering everything. He was talking, smiling, even making jokes. They said he couldn’t talk for too long, because he was on a lot of pain meds that made him sleepy, but he was doing well. He still had a long way to go, but he was gonna make it.

So why was Richie so fucking _scared_?

Maybe it was because he knew he couldn’t lie to himself, or to Eddie, much longer. He didn’t know what was gonna come out of his mouth when he got in that hospital room, and he suspected he was going to say something he’d regret instantly. But he had to go in. All the others had asked him why he hadn’t seen Eddie yet. They were definitely going to be on his ass until he did, and he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t. It seemed like such a stupid thing to worry about after everything. He threw the butt of his cigarette on the sidewalk, ground it down with his foot, and opened the door to the hospital, deciding it was now or never.

He always hated hospitals. To be fair, he figured most people did, but there was something _creepy_ about them. Everything was so sterile and bright and white. The air smelled like steel and lemon and it was cold all the time. Even when the employees smiled, it rarely reached their eyes. Weird that a hospital, of all places, could feel so lifeless. Still, he swallowed thickly and walked up to the front desk to ask if he could see Eddie Kaspbrak (his name tasted both sweet and tangy in his mouth, and he realized he hadn’t said it since the battle) in room 207.

He was told to sit down until a nurse came in and called him. He hovered around the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup and immediately regretting it once he did. Lukewarm hospital coffee tasted like shit. Go fucking figure. He stared down into the black substance in the cup with disdain until he heard a door creak open and a voice say “Richie? You can come and see your friend now.”

He followed the nurse, listening to her rubber clogs squeak against the tile floor, until they reached room 207. She knocked lightly on the door and opened it up, and Richie kept his eyes on the floor as she did. He couldn’t look. He was too scared. God, he was a fucking coward. After all that, he was still a fucking coward. “Edward? There’s another friend here to see you.”

“He can come in,” and his voice was fucking _warm_. Richie always read shit like that in books. Characters smiled or said something _warmly_ or _lovingly_. He didn’t know what _warm_ sounded like. He figured it was something authors just wrote because it sounded pleasant. But Eddie’s voice, _God his fucking voice Richie was gonna fucking cry already_, though quiet and raspy, was warm. He wanted to see Richie, there was no doubt.

“I’ll leave you two to visit, but Edward still has plenty of recovering to do, so try not to stay too long, alright?” The nurse said, and Richie finally looked up to face her and see her nametag that declared her name to be Sue.

“You can call me Eddie, Sue,” Eddie said, and no doubt he had already said it fifty times. Nurse Sue didn’t comment, and Richie heard the squeaking of her shoes all the way down the hall.

“You gonna look at me, trashmouth?” Eddie said. The tears were stinging Richie’s eyes already. _Fuck_. He looked up and saw him. He was skinny. He was always skinny, but those ugly hospital gowns made him look even skinnier and paler. Dark circles had made their home underneath his eyes, and he was hooked up to machines that beeped and clicked and hummed. Richie lifted his glasses to swipe at his eyes. He did not need to be crying right now.

“Hi, Eds,” he managed to rasp in reply after composing himself.

“Hi. You’re far away. What, do you think you’re gonna catch my stab wound if you come any closer?”

Richie scoffed. “No, dumbass, you’re just so goddamn delicate I’m just worried I’d shatter your bones by breathing too hard.”

“Don’t give me that shit. You sound like my fucking mom.”

“Yeah, I guess after being inside her for so long I kinda picked up some of her mannerisms.”

Eddie laughed, then winced, holding onto his chest. “God, we sound fucking stupid, don’t we? Like when we were kids. Sit down, Richie. Please.” The _please_ sounded so sincere and almost sweet after all the shit he was just talking, Richie had to oblige. Of course he did; he knew deep down, he would’ve done anything Eddie asked him too. He was just so happy he was alive, and he felt the happiness in his chest and in the tears that kept forming in his eyes. He pulled one of the plastic chairs closer to Eddie’s bed, making sure not to knock any of the beeping machines, and sat down.

“You can’t be comfortable like this,” he said, looking closer at the IV in Eddie’s arm and the weird clamp thing on his index finger and how goddamn _skinny_ he looked.

“I’m not, not really, but they’ve got me on lots of drugs, and they help a lot. I sleep a lot, and the others have been here, too—Ben and Bev, all of ‘em—they all visited me and checked up on me.”

“Nice of ‘em,” Richie said sheepishly.

“Hey.” Eddie reached out a hand carefully to place it on Richie’s (and _God,_ Richie’s heartrate increased like he was a fucking teenager) and made sure he was looking at him. “No hard feelings, okay?”

“_You_, not giving me shit for something? Damn, is this what getting stabbed does to you?” Richie chuckled humorlessly.

“Shut up. What I’m saying is, I don’t care that you’re the last to come see me. I’m glad you came. I-I don’t remember anything that happened after I got stabbed down there, obviously, but Beverly said you were just…really torn up about it.”

He could’ve made a joke about how Beverly was lying and he was just fine and he shed no tears for Eddie’s dumb ass, but the jokes wouldn’t land. There was no truth to them. “I guess I was,” he mumbled. “Hey, where the hell’s your wife?” He suddenly asked, glad that the question came to him before he had the chance to cry again.

Eddie winced again. “Well. It’s complicated. It’s been complicated for awhile. Honestly, she wasn’t happy about me coming back here, and I might’ve said some words about how we rushed into things and our marriage was largely a mistake and…” he trailed off, leaning his head back on the pillow. “I think she’s packing my things as we speak. It was bound to happen, but I feel really shitty about it all.”

“Did you call her?”

“Yeah. She doesn’t wanna come down, she told me that’s what I get for all of this and not to call her again and that she’s _mourning_ right now. I talked to Beverly about it a bit, and—”

“And what, you and her are gonna run off together now?” Richie couldn’t resist a little bit of prodding.

Eddie scoffed. “No, idiot. Ben would kill me. She’s—not my type, anyway. She was just giving me some advice.”

“I didn’t know she was in the business of giving love advice.”

“It was barely advice. She just told me…to be with someone who makes me happy. Myra wasn’t making me happy, and I wasn’t making her happy, either. I just couldn’t admit it to myself because I don’t like to be alone.”

“The meds make you honest,” Richie said, staring down at his hand, still covered by Eddie’s. That hand moved up and flicked him lightly on the cheek.

“Shut up. I’m always honest. Jesus, look at you. You’ve got all these freckles, that hasn’t changed, huh?”

“You’re just now discovering this?”

“I know we got pretty close down there, but it was so dark I could barely see your face. Maybe I like it better when I can’t see you, though,” Eddie teased.

Richie rolled his eyes. “Really?”

“No,” he replied, and Richie’s eyes met his again, looking surprised. “Of course I don’t mean that. I like looking at your face, even though you look homeless when you don’t shave like this.” His hand moved from atop Richie’s to rub his cheek and Richie tensed, wondering if Eddie could feel the warmth in his cheeks. “It’s scratchy, too. Good thing you’re single, you’d give a girl beard-burn when you went down on her. Wait, that’s assuming you go down on girls.”

Richie was of two minds: part of him wanted to smack Eddie’s hand away and tell him to shut the fuck up (which was predictable of him), and the other part of him wanted to turn his head and kiss Eddie’s palm and hold it and feel how warm and soft it was in his hand because he was _alive_, even with all these machines hooked up to him he was actually alive and he felt the tears coming again. He couldn’t hide them anymore.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie’s voice softened. “What is it, Rich? Did I hurt your feelings _that_ much talking about how you don’t know how to please a woman?”

“N-no,” he stammered, fucking _stammered_, he was crying so hard, “I just can’t fucking believe you’re sitting right in front of me right now. I was so goddamn scared, Eds, I r-really thought I was gonna lose you.”

Eddie’s hand stayed on Richie’s cheek while tears flowed down it. He rubbed his thumb against his skin, ignoring that it was scratchy. “I was scared, too. I’m really glad that I don’t remember anything—what being stabbed felt like. The doctors tell me I can’t remember because of the shock. And honestly—God, no, it’s stupid.”

Richie used his free hand to wipe his cheeks, looking at Eddie with furrowed brows. “No, say it. Say it now, before I come back to myself and start making fun of you again.”

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. “It is stupid. But I thought…thought you wouldn’t come see me in here. I thought you just wanted to forget everything like we all did the first time, and you weren’t calling me or anything. I thought you had just gone back home.”

“You _are_ an idiot,” he said, “I came. Eddie, you know—you know I’d always come for you, right?”

He nodded, and Richie swore he saw tears in his eyes as well, but he cleared his throat and swatted at his face again. “Yeah, you’ll _cum_ for me alright. In your dreams.”

Richie laughed through his tears. “Like you haven’t had the same dreams, Spaghetti.”

“I’m a grown ass adult and you’re _still_ calling me that.”

“It suits you. You look like spaghetti, anyway. All long and thin and wobbly.”

“And you look like that guy who played Stefon on SNL. Fuck you.”

“No I don’t. Since when do you watch SNL?”

“Ah, so you know who Stefon is. I prove my point.” Eddie retorted, and Richie attempted to nudge his hand with his head but it just seemed like an aggressive nuzzle.

They laughed, Richie leaning his cheek into Eddie’s hand and settling himself there, feeling like it was exactly where he belonged in that moment. That was, until he heard the squeaking of nurse shoes down the hall and up to the door. “Sir, I’m sorry, but visitation time is limited and you’re going to have to leave,” Sue said. Richie pulled away, reluctantly, and rubbed at his eyes, which were probably still red and watery.

“How much longer is he going to be in here?” He asked the nurse.

“That’s not up to me, it’s up to the doctors. You’re more than welcome to come back during visiting hours again.”

Richie sighed at relief in that; as scared as he was to see Eddie at first, he suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of being away from him for too much longer.

“You gonna come back, Rich?” he heard Eddie ask. He nodded in his direction, and Eddie smiled—warmly, of course. “You better.”

***

Richie stood in the aisles of the drugstore, shifting his weight from right to left foot as he stared at the flowers. That’s what you gave people when they were in the hospital, right? Flowers? Was there a specific _type_ of flowers you gave someone in the hospital? Like, _sorry you got stabbed. Here’s some daisies. _But daisies seemed too cheery, and roses seemed too romantic. Roses is what you gave someone you were dating on Valentine’s Day. It was cheesy and cliché.

It would be nice, though, to give Eddie roses one day.

Richie sighed and settled on a bouquet of carnations of various colors. They smelled nice and he thought they might take away from the disturbing, glaring whiteness of his hospital room. _What the fuck do I know about decorating rooms?_ Richie thought, thinking about his room back at home and cringing. He looked at the greeting card section, but all of them were so corny he knew Eddie would probably roll his eyes at them. He decided on some chocolates instead. If Eddie couldn’t eat them, he would.

When showed up in Eddie’s doorway, escorted by Sue again, he saw a _grin._ Since when did Eddie grin? At _him_? “Hey, Richie. What’s the stuff for? Going on a date after this?”

“Yeah, with your mom.”

“My mom’s dead.”

“With your wife, then.”

Eddie snorted. “Good luck with that.”

“Do you want these?” Richie nearly thrusted the flowers and chocolate at him, suddenly nervous that Eddie would find it stupid and call him gay or something. _Jesus Christ,_ he thought, _I’m how old and still worrying about this shit?_

But Eddie took him by surprise when he said, “Yeah. I love that kind of chocolate, how did you know? I’ll have a nurse bring a vase in for the flowers, too.”

Richie bit down on the inside of his cheek, willing himself not to blush. “I _didn’t_ know you liked this kind of chocolate. I just got the one that looked the best off the shelf.”

“Open the box for me, will you? I’m sick of hospital food.”

Richie opened the box, presenting him with the variety of chocolates. “First pick, I guess. Because I have to be nice to you.”

Eddie snorted and picked up a piece of chocolate, only for his hand to shake and the chocolate to fall out of it. “Fuck. I’m shaky as fuck today.”

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

Richie must’ve _looked_ worried, because Eddie gave him a reassuring look. “Rich, I’m fine. My hands get shaky sometimes, it’s the meds, and I haven’t eaten in a while. I’m not dying.”

_We thought you were,_ Richie thought, but for once, kept his mouth shut. “I can’t believe _you’re_ not freaking out about it.”

“I was at first. Something in here,” he gestured toward the IV, “is probably sedating me or something. Also, I think I annoyed the nurses and doctors asking a bunch of questions when I first woke up. Anyway, give me that chocolate before it melts, asshole.”

Richie picked it up and fucking _fed it to him_ before he could realize what he was doing. Eddie didn’t comment on it, though, just took the chocolate in his mouth when Richie reached it out to him, and his lips _(Jesus Christ his lips his lips his lips)_ brushed against Richie’s fingers and little electric shocks went up his arm. There was a silence between them after it until Richie broke it by saying, “Must suck to be in here. You can’t jerk off all the time like you normally do, huh?” And Eddie shoved his shoulder with a shaky hand, and all was back to normal.

“It’s not fair that you can only stay for twenty minutes,” Eddie said after some time and conversation had passed.

“Yeah, what’s up with that rule?”

“If you were family or my…significant other, you could stay for longer, I think,” he didn’t look at Richie when he said this.

“In your dreams,” Richie said, biting down on the inside of his cheek again, harder this time.

Sure enough, the nurse came in about five minutes later, saying it was time for Richie to leave. Eddie looked like a lightbulb had turned on over his head and he said, “Sue, since Richie is my…my boyfriend, is it okay if he stays a little longer?”

Sue cocked an eyebrow. “I thought we had you on record as having a wife.”

“And why do you think she hasn’t come down to see me?”

She looked a bit like she had been backed into a corner. “Ah. I’m…sorry. I didn’t know. Yes, he can stay longer, but as long as he’s not disturbing your recovery.”

“He’s not,” Eddie said, glancing down at a clearly blushing Richie, “I promise.”

Richie waited until he couldn’t hear the nurse’s shoes anymore before saying “Are you _sure_ you don’t have a crush on me?” Eddie didn’t say anything in reply, just laughed a little. “Aren’t you worried, though? This _is_ Derry.”

“Hospitals have confidentiality laws—I’ve been in enough to know. And it doesn’t mean we’re actually together, just that we cheated the system a little bit,” he yawned, shifting a bit in bed. “We’ll forget all about it when I get outta here. And don’t tell the others. They’ll make fun of us for _years_.”

“No kidding. I won’t. But I might make fun of you, Eds.”

“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be Richie,” he said, eyes drooping closed. “God, I’m fucking tired. I’m just gonna…rest my eyes for a little bit. Okay? You can stay or go.”

“Okay. I figured you had to shut up eventually,” Richie said, suddenly knowing that he wasn’t going anywhere. Not until Eddie got better.

Eddie’s voice was quiet and far away. “You don’t mean that, _loverboy_.”

“Look who you’re calling loverboy,” Richie murmured in response, but Eddie was quickly falling into sleep. He placed his hand on Richie’s again, and their fingers threaded together.

***

Something was hissing “Richie”. It started out soft, but grew more harsh. “Richie. Richie…Richie!” He started awake, looking around the darkness while his heart raced. “Richie, Rich, c’mon,” the voice was familiar now, and Richie rubbed his bleary eyes to see Eddie. “It’s just me. You alright?”

Still not sure if he could talk, Richie just nodded, re-orientating himself to the hospital room. Everything was fine. Hopefully. “You should really go home. You fell asleep,” Eddie said. He shook his head firmly.

“No. Not goin’ anywhere,” he mumbled, closing his eyes again.

Eddie chuckled, clearly too tired to argue. “Fine. But at least go home in the morning. Take a shower and change out of those wrinkled-to-hell clothes.”

“Whatever.”

“Yeah, ‘whatever’,” he said, but there wasn’t any anger or annoyance in his voice, “I shouldn’t have woken you up. Night, Richie.”

“G’nightbaby,” Richie mumbled as if it were all one word, already half-asleep. As hard and plastic as the chair was, he was comfortable as long as he was next to Eddie. Were his eyes open, he might’ve seen the pink on Eddie’s cheeks when he heard the pet name Richie had accidentally called him.

***

Over the next week, Richie rarely left Eddie’s side, only to go home (well, the Townhouse, which was home for now), shower, and get take-out for the both of them (“I’m gonna get fat,” Richie had lamented, and Eddie had remarked something about how much he smoked and how it kept the pounds off, as disgusting of a habit it was). He figured that the nurse bought the story that him and Eddie were a couple, because their hands were usually intertwined, whether they were awake or asleep. It was a comforting thing, like Eddie was an anchor, keeping him from floating away and getting lost in thoughts. Occasionally, when Eddie was napping (which he did a lot), Richie would gently bring his hand up to his lips and lay gentle kisses there. He cried a few times, too, trying to do it while Eddie was asleep, but he saw a few times, and they didn’t really say anything about it, but he simply rubbed his thumb comfortingly against the top of Richie’s hand. Which, really, was all he needed. The moment would pass, and they’d go back to making stupid jokes and reminiscing about things they did when they were kids. Those days seemed so far away, now…

Just when Richie was starting to doubt if he was ever gonna go home, Eddie called him while he was at the townhouse for a change of clothes and told him the nurse had told him he could leave tomorrow. “Will you bring me some clothes? They’re in my suitcase still. She said you can pick me up at 11 AM. Maybe we could go out for breakfast. Brunch, I guess. Bring my inhaler, too, will you? Wait. Fuck, I think I lost it down there.”

“Have you even needed to _use_ your inhaler the whole time you’ve been in there?” Richie asked.

“Listen, it’s a security thing, Rich!”

He laughed. “Okay, Linus. I’ll bring everything that I can find. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, Richie.”

Richie barely slept the whole night. He missed the feeling of the hospital chairs and Eddie’s hand in his.

The next morning, he put some of Eddie’s clothes (God, they were all ugly, and he wore _briefs?_ Of course) in a bag and took them to the hospital, where Sue was taking his vital signs for the last time. “You can help him change, I imagine that would be more comfortable for the two of you,” she said. “Be careful not to re-open the stitches. I sent him with some paperwork about how to take care of the wound, and he’s got the pain meds—he’ll probably have to take them for a little while longer.”

Richie nodded, feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of this. Sue smiled. “You’ll be okay. You didn’t leave his side for days. I haven’t seen something like that in a long time. I know you’ll take good care of him.” Over Sue’s shoulder, Eddie nodded.

After she had finished jotting down the vital signs, she left them alone in the room so Eddie could get changed. Richie cleared his throat. “This shouldn’t be too bad. Here, can you…” He positioned Eddie so he was sitting on the edge of the bed and his legs were hanging over it. It was nice to see him not hooked up to a bunch of beeping machines anymore.

Quickly, Richie untied the hospital gown, and helped Eddie lift it over his head, staring only at his bare back, not daring to let his eyes wander. He slid the sweater on, then reluctantly picked up the clean pair of briefs. “Sorry if this is awkward,” he said quickly, getting in front of Eddie and sliding the shorts up his legs. He glanced—once, and very briefly—at what was between Eddie’s legs, and a warmth settled deep in his stomach. _Goddammit, idiot, not the time,_ he told himself, helping Eddie get the briefs snug around his hips. “There. That’s over.”

“Thanks for doing this,” Eddie said, clearly feeling the tension as much as Richie was. “What, not gonna make a joke about how yours is bigger?”

“I figured you already knew it was.”

“Shut up, trashmouth.” Eddie said, and his pants were slid on and buttoned. Richie helped him stand up, and though his legs didn’t have anything wrong with them, he was still wobbly and awkward in his steps. They called the nurse in again, and he was wheeled out to Richie’s car and helped in the passenger seat. They thanked Sue one last time, and Richie climbed into the car, gripped the steering wheel, and sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked.

“Nothing. Just tired. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

“What, did you miss your _boyfriend?_” Eddie asked, and Richie started the ignition and put the car in drive.

“Oh, shut the fuck up. That was your idea anyway.”

“And Sue really believed us, huh? God knows what the others would say if they saw us.”

Richie felt angry, at himself more than Eddie. He had spent a whole _week_ acting like his boyfriend, and even though he was stuck in the hospital, it had been a good week. They had talked about everything and anything, watched dumb game shows and ate greasy food, they had made fun of each other like always. They had been just like a couple, and Richie loved it. He had felt happier than he had in ages. And now what were they supposed to do? Go back to their respective states, call each other every couple of months, and feel fucking miserable?

The thought made Richie want to puke.

They rode in silence to the townhouse, and when they got out of the car and up the stairs, Richie couldn’t hold himself back any longer. “What are you gonna do now?”

“Go back to New York. Get my things from Myra. Get an apartment. Work. Maybe try dating apps…but then again, probably not. Live a life of quiet desperation, I guess,” he laughed, like it was funny. It _wasn’t_, not to Richie. It was the saddest goddamn thing he could possibly think of.

“You don’t want that.”

“No, I don’t, not really,” he shrugged, “But what else is there?” He sat and started re-organizing his suitcase idly, while Richie stood in the doorway, fighting the urge to cry again. He’d been crying too fucking much lately.

“There’s me.” Richie said.

Eddie didn’t say anything for a minute, looking up at him with a puzzled expression. “What do you mean?”

“Oh c’mon, don’t play dumb. You know.”

“Know what?”

Richie turned and rested his head on the doorway, suddenly too afraid to look Eddie in the eyes. “How I fucking feel about you. You know why I’ve sat by your bed every day, held your hand, why I’ve fucking _cried, _for Christ’s sake. You know why I was so scared to lose you. Please, you…you can get up and leave now, if you want. I know you don’t feel the same, don’t worry about letting me down easy or some shit. Just…don’t play dumb.”

“Richie, look at me.”

“I can’t! I fucking can’t, Eddie! I know, okay, I already know what you’re gonna say! Just-just leave, if you want.”

He heard the floor creak under Eddie’s feat, and inhaled sharply as he waited for him to pass by him and leave. Instead, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Look at me, Richie. Please.”

Reluctantly, he turned around and looked Eddie in the eye. “Please, Eds, don’t—I don’t need you to—”

“Shh…” Eddie said, hands cupping Richie’s face. He was about to pull away when—

_Oh._

They were kissing. Well, Eddie was kissing him at first, because Richie’s eyes were frozen open in shock. Thankfully, just before Eddie was about to pull away, Richie leaned into it, kissing him back and running a hand through his hair. Eddie made a pleased little noise into his mouth (_Fuck. Fuuuuck_, Richie thought, his knees wobbling at the sound) and deepened the kiss, a hand caressing Richie’s scratchy cheek.

When they absolutely _had_ to pull apart, Eddie rested his forehead on Richie’s, sighing happily. “Do you get it now, Richie?”

“I-I…yeah. I think so. Unless you’re fucking with me.”

He shook his head. “God, you worry more than _me_ sometimes. No, I’m not fucking with you. I love you, idiot.” He nuzzled his nose against Richie’s, which made him laugh softly.

“I love you, too, Eds. But I guess you know that.”

“Aww, you’re not gonna call me baby again?”

Richie pulled away, confused. “When did I ever call you that?”

Eddie smirked. “One night, when you were half asleep, you said something that sounded a lot like ‘goodnight, baby’ to me. I knew you were soft deep down.”

He blushed furiously, nudging Eddie. “Did you _like_ when I called you that?”

“Yeah. It was kinda sweet.”

“So you’re soft, too.”

Eddie’s face crinkled up. “I am not!” But he smirked suddenly, rethinking it. “Well. Maybe around you. But don’t tell anyone, or I’ll fucking kick your ass.” He tugged on Richie’s collar, bringing him closer. His voice was playful, and his eyes were smiling.

“I’m not telling anyone, Eddie Spaghetti. You’re all mine now,” Richie glanced down at his lips, looking up at Eddie expectantly.

“I think, for once, I can’t argue with you. I like how that sounds.” He brought Richie in for another kiss, and they stayed there in each other’s arms for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> apologies for the cliche ending, lol. thank you for reading, comments mean the world to me! xoxoxoxoxo


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